the unimaginable
by lannistersdebt
Summary: There were few things that could make Narcissa Malfoy's blood run cold from fear but she found it happening more often than not after the Death Eaters invaded Hogwarts.


Written for QLFC Round 10.  
Wigtown Wanderers  
Beater 1  
Prompt: Kill Them–Lucius Malfoy  
Additional Prompts: [song] "It's Quiet Uptown"–Hamilton, [spell] Crucio, [object] hourglass  
Warnings: character death, torture

_They are trying to do the unimaginable._

_They are standing in the garden_

_Alexander by Eliza's side_

_She takes his hand._

\- "It's Quiet Uptown" - Hamilton

There were few things that could make Narcissa Malfoy's blood run cold from fear but she found it happening more often than not after the Death Eaters invaded Hogwarts. Every time the door to the Manor opened she was unsure of who would still be alive and she felt she was made of ice until she could see Draco and Lucius, always near the back of the group, their faces failing at hiding the horror of the things they'd seen...things they had done.

July 27 was different. The Malfoys were left at home as the Dark Lord and a large number of his supporters left to attack Harry Potter that night as he was being moved to a safe location. Part of Narcissa was relieved. A larger part was worried. And late that night, when she heard the door open with more force than ever before, she felt more than just her blood chill. She'd had good reason to worry.

"LUCIUS!" Voldemort bellowed, and the anger in his voice shot fear straight to her heart. The night had not gone as planned. There was more murmuring downstairs, but no yelling; he was confident he would be obeyed.

Draco stuck his head into her chambers and when he spoke, his voice was even. She admired that until later, when she realized that that wasn't bravery she heard. It was defeat. "We should go downstairs, Mum. Get the report."

Narcissa nodded and stood and then together they walked downstairs. As they moved down the hallway, the witch couldn't help but think the portraits on the walls were watching them with more condemnation than ever before. Did they know, then, what had happened?

No one noticed at first when she and Draco entered the drawing room. Their backs were turned to the newcomers as they all looked toward the fireplace. In front of the mantle knelt Lucius, panting, his eyes even more sunken and shadowed than they had been a week ago when the Death Eaters had last formally met in this very room. There was no fire roaring tonight but the room was illuminated by several floating orbs, and even under their pale light it was hard to miss just how unhealthy her husband looked. Whatever curse he'd just undergone didn't help matters.

"I grow tired of your shortcomings, Lucius…" Voldemort walked in a circle around him, flicking his wand. Each time, the lord of the manor jerked slightly in pain. "I took your wand because I trusted it would work… You have performed Dark Magic, powerfully so, with that wand. And yet it failed tonight."

Draco made an involuntary noise at that and Voldemort paused. "Ah, the rest of the family has joined us. You're wondering, no doubt, what I mean when I say Lucius's wand failed?"

As one, mother and son nodded and Voldemort reached into the pocket of his robes. He withdrew Lucius's wand and tossed it across the room to them. Draco reached out and caught it, reminding both of his parents ever so briefly of his days on the Quidditch Pitch, and passed it to his mother.

The wand, once so elegant, was cracked practically in half. The split ran down the entire length of it, more narrow at the tip and growing larger toward the base. Along the sides of the split were fissures. The core was nonexistent; the entirety of the inside of the wand was black as night.

"How…?" Narcissa looked up after her inspection, for looking at it had answered nothing. "It wasn't your own wand, my Lord. It _should _have worked."

Voldemort aimed his own wand at her then and more for the benefit of the Death Eaters than any need to speak, called, "_Crucio!_"

She hit the floor hard but did not register the pain, overwhelmed by that from the curse. It was worse than it had been the previous times it had been used on her; there was absolutely no escape. She was no longer cold, her blood no longer ice; she felt as though her bones were alight with flames that could never be doused. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than for the pain to end, no matter what it took. Even death would have been preferable.

And then, after what felt like hours, it was over. There was a cool hand on her forehead, another on her neck, and a sigh of relief when she opened her eyes. Draco was staring down at her, his expression unreadable. Wordlessly he helped her stand and then stayed against her side, his hand linked in hers. She was still unsteady when Voldemort began speaking again and wanted to ignore him, recompose herself, and make it through to the end of this impromptu and informal meeting.

But she didn't get the chance.

"I've grown increasingly wearisome of your failures, Lucius… I had such hope for you, as someone I could once depend upon. I forgave you for your faults and your disobedience, your failures…. your _lies_. I am not, after all, unreasonable. But you've failed me too often, now. You're an embarrassment to the cause and your own wife and son."

She knew the tone that Voldemort was using, the blend of scorn and impatience and, somehow, glee. Shakily, she took her hand from Draco's and began to move forward, knowing she couldn't stop it but knowing she couldn't just stand there either.

"My Lord, please…" Lucius's voice was hoarse and hollow.

"Ahh, Lucius. I've already forgiven you for too much." Voldemort raised his wand and fixed his eyes on Lucius as Narcissa grew closer and almost grinned. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

The green light hit Lucius squarely in the chest and he crumpled to the ground just as Narcissa reached him.

She didn't hear herself scream.

* * *

The memory of apparating to Cokeworth last summer on a night very much the same as this one flashed through her head. Last year, Bella had been with her, even as she tried to stop her. This year, she was alone. Bella had tried to keep her from going but she held her wand to her sister's throat, her eyes flashing. "Try to stop me again and you'll wish you hadn't," she'd whispered and then disapparated.

She arrived just off the riverbank and began walking at once, pulling her cloak tighter around her to ward off a chill not entirely caused by the mist. Deeper and deeper she wound her way through the rows of deserted houses, making sure she didn't walk in a straight row just in case Bella had decided to follow her. Her footsteps echoed loudly on the cobblestones, keeping time with the pounding that had begun in her head. Finally, she spied the sign for Spinner's End and sighed with relief when she saw dim lights through the curtains in rooms on both floors.

The knock on the door seemed to be the loudest thing in the world in the quiet of the neighborhood, and though it took only a moment for it to be opened a crack, it felt like ages.

"Narcissa?" The door opened wider and then Severus took a step back to let her in. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."

"I'm sorry, Severus. I...well, I didn't expect to be anywhere but home tonight." She looked around the sitting room. The room was tiny, the walls entirely covered by books, and while it was far from cozy, it was _familiar_ and that was all she wanted tonight. The fire flickered and in the light of the flames, something on the mantle caught her eye. She moved toward it as she heard the door click shut behind her, knowing she had a moment before they'd talk. In most scenarios she wouldn't quite say that Severus Snape was predictable, but after a night doing work for the Dark Lord he always had a drink, and she knew he would be fetching that now.

As she neared the fireplace she realized the object was an hourglass—and a nice one at that. The sand inside was a dark emerald green, the metal on the outside a bright silver. It was small enough to be held and she reached up to grab it, calming slightly by the thought of watching the grains slip through from one side to the other, slow and steady.

"Wine?" Severus had returned as quietly as he'd left. At her nod, he poured two glasses and handed her one, then gestured to the threadbare sofa next to her. From her face, he could tell something had happened after the Dark Lord returned to Malfoy Manor—she wouldn't have come here this late otherwise.

They drained their glasses and then Severus poured them more and sat in the armchair across from the sofa, settling back. Narcissa knew he would just sit there quietly as long as she needed him to, that he wouldn't rush her to tell him whatever it was that she'd come here to tell. That was one of the things she liked about him, that made them such good friends. She waited until she'd had her second glass and set it down, then picked up the hourglass again and flipped it so the sand began to drain.

"Severus, what happened tonight?"

"Potter got away… again." If he was surprised by the question he didn't show it. "The Order had his friends take Polyjuice Potion so at first we didn't know which was the real one. He narrowed it down rather quickly… The Dark Lord went after him. I don't know exactly _how _it happened, but Potter's wand still reacted to the Dark Lord."

Narcissa's eyes snapped upward to meet his. This was what she had come here for—answers. "How?"

"I was a bit further away than some of the others, so I couldn't hear what he cast… his wand began to spin in his hand and shot out a golden flame. It broke Lucius's wand. By the time the Dark Lord got another wand, Potter was within the boundary of one of the Order's safe houses." He kept his eyes on Narcissa and didn't miss it when she nodded and swallowed thickly, flipping the hourglass again. "Narcissa, surely you know this... or were you not home when they returned?"

"I was." She felt her voice begin to tremble as the events of the night began to crash back into her. For a couple hours she'd pushed them off, blocked them out. She'd hugged Draco, had given him instructions on what to do until she got home, and then, unable to bear the thought of being in her home with her husband lying dead in the drawing room, she fled. Her heart began to beat faster and her breath was coming more shallow than before. To say the words would make it even more real and she wasn't entirely sure she could handle that. "The Dark Lord was irate. He did not explain."

"Severus…" She stared again at the hourglass and pictured pieces of herself slipping away like grains of sand drawn down. "Lucius is dead."

There was no mistaking the shock on his face, usually so schooled, and a part of her felt better at knowing that he'd had no knowledge of the fate that awaited her husband. His friend.

"How?" His voice was hoarse.

"The Dark Lord's hand. Draco saw it happen as well." She wondered why her face felt wet and reached up to touch her cheek, realizing she was crying again. "I don't know how to go on from here, Severus."

There was a soft rustle as he moved to the sofa beside her and pulled her to him. The feel of his arms around her broke the last of her self control. She leaned into him, inhaling the smell of him, that familiar blend of cinnamon, cedar, parchment and ink. It was comforting and grounding, and even through the sadness she felt overwhelming her, she felt a small glimmer of hope.

Lucius had always said to find Severus if anything happened. Because of him, everything would be okay. She would be okay.

_If you see him in the street, walking by her side  
Talking by her side, have pity._


End file.
